I am in New York again, here at work at the computer Help Desk in NYU's Carter Hall. The bus ride up was uneventful, as far as I know. I slept most of the way. I'm amazed with how well I sleep on the bus these days. I have a total lack of regard for my appearance. I'm slouched and sprawled out, and I sleep with my head tilted back and my mouth wide open. I probably drool too. Occasionally people bump into me because I'm stretched out into the aisle. These little kids were absolute montsers, and they were making a horrific sound with their Doritos wrapper. It was worse than fingernails on the black board. There's a few sounds that I absolutely cannot stand, sounds that give me goose bumps something fierce. These are: the squeakiness of styrophome blocks, the squeakiness of walking on extremely dry snow, and the squeakiness of those potato chip bags. Can't stand it.Anyhow, what was weird today was that when I occasionally woke up, I didn't open my eyes, but I could tell exactly where we were. I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, but I could tell just by the movement of the bus where we were. I distinctly remember waking up, and feeling the bus turn right, and thinking "We must be going into the Lincoln Tunnel." And I opened my eyes, and we were. I immediately fell asleep, and I awoke exactly as we exited the tunnel. I hate tunnels. They make me very nervous. So it was convenient that I fell asleep for the 3 minutes that it took to get through the tunnel.
I can never seem to remember my dreams on the bus, which is disappointing. Actually, now that I think of it, I had one involving Jen, and maybe Jed. Curiously, it involved a bus. And some weird hippy/tantric clan ritual or something. We had to get off the bus so the hippies could get on, and I couldn't find the bus I was supposed to get on. All the buses were in a huge closed warehouse with those annoying orange lights. The other part of the dream was a bizarre scenario involving me and Jen, which left me feeling a little weird afterwards. I'm not reading anything into it. much.
So home was uneventful. My brother Garrick came home on Sunday, and gave me a bunch of cool programs that I won't have time to play with for quite some time. I'm going to try to get my Media Whore project online by mid-April. He gave me a lot of web design know-how, but it won't reach my head for a few weeks at least. It'll stay put in the textbook until my hellish week is over and I return from the Continent.
Speaking of which, I leave in 10 days. Very exciting. Although I really don't want to have to talk to anybody in France. and when you think about it, how hard could that be? I've been in the city since 2 today, and the only people I've had to talk to were cashiers and waiters, and those were all unecessary expenditures. I think I can manage a few hours a day without having to talk to any damn Frogs. I just hate playing the fool. I'm not very good at it. Odd, when you consider how much practice I've had.
I've got to write a paper about a social group this week. So, naturally, I'll be writing about the most accessible social group I know of: mine. i kind of hate that though, because now I'm walking around with my friends, trying to carefully catalogue everything they say, paying particular attention to the sad and bad parts, in hopes that it'll make a really interesting human-interest story. I'm such a whore. But it is making me find my friends even more interesting. I've know them for almost 6 years now, but I've never consciously tried to analyze the group dynamic, or the smaller relationships between the subgroups. I think I'll have to set up some meetings so I can observe different combinations.
DA&R
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